Furthermore, in the early 1990s, the Japanese economic bubble burst, and there were even queues for people wanting to jump off buildings. Jack Linton was worried that there would be too many people on the rooftop and he wouldn’t be able to squeeze in.

Refusing is one thing, but he still had to appreciate the good intentions, so the rejection had to be tactful. After all, classmates who are rich second-generation heirs don’t come around every year—such social resources shouldn’t be wasted.

Jack Linton picked up his pen and wrote two thousand words, only saying he had suddenly fallen seriously ill. He expressed his desire to work together, but unfortunately, his body wouldn’t allow it. Once he recovered, he promised to personally visit Japan, so as not to let down their friendship as classmates.

The writing was mature and moving, ending with “May your martial fortune prosper,” and that was that.

Hmm, he added a couple of drops of eye drops to highlight the sorrowful mood while writing the letter.

It was just a serious illness, not something incurable, otherwise he might have sprinkled some red medicine on it.

Silently wishing the IT folks in Japan well, Jack Linton continued planning for the future—how to dig up his first pot of gold in this golden age.

First of all, working for others was out of the question. If you work for someone else, you’ll never become a boss in this lifetime. Even if he did work, it would only be temporary.

After thinking it over, Jack Linton decided to be realistic and first consider where to stay tonight.

A few years ago, his parents had died in a traffic accident, and the only inheritance was insurance, which he used to attend university.

Reality was harsh—graduation meant being homeless. If he didn’t figure something out, he’d have to sleep on the street tonight.

Especially since he was so handsome, the risk was huge. He might just disappear while sleeping.

He sorted through his social connections in his mind, mainly classmates. The male classmates were all jealous of his status as the school heartthrob, so the chances of crashing at their place were slim.

The female classmates all secretly liked him, but he didn’t dare—boys out in the world have to protect themselves and can’t let girls take advantage.

Besides, a short stay was fine, but if he stayed longer, what would their parents think?

Nine times out of ten, it would be just like sleeping on the street—he might just disappear while staying there.

If someone really had an emergency, they’d have to rely on relatives.

Uncles, aunts, distant cousins…

Sorry, his family tree was never that well-off.

Jack Linton sat quietly, organizing his thoughts, and dug up a useful clue from his chaotic memories: on his mother’s side, there was a wealthy relative he’d met once at a funeral a few years ago, who seemed quite kind. Maybe this person could provide him with a three-bedroom apartment.

He found the phone number of the wealthy relative David Carter in his address book. After a long time, he finally got through. Jack Linton explained his situation, and David Carter was very straightforward, saying that since they were family, he’d be happy to help.

Jack Linton happily went to the villa, only to walk into a two-bedroom apartment in confusion—it was just David Carter’s home.

That’s reality for you: rich relatives are mostly braggers, and poor relatives are usually genuinely poor.

No money? So be it. Jack Linton wasn’t there to take advantage anyway, so he put down his luggage and settled in.

When he first heard the name David Carter, Jack Linton didn’t think much of it, but after meeting him, he felt something was off.

They looked too much alike!

The resemblance was one thing—three-tenths similarity could be a coincidence—but the ten ancestral tablets in David Carter’s home, nine of which had names and one left blank as a spare, almost spelled out David Carter’s identity.

Unwilling to give up, Jack Linton asked who the relatives on the tablets were. David Carter hemmed and hawed, brushing it off with a few words.

At this point, he was sure: unless he was mistaken, he had transmigrated into the world of the movie "Fight Back to School."

David Carter was one of the main characters—Uncle Tat, an undercover cop.

This discovery made Jack Linton’s scalp tingle. Although the movie was based on reality, they were two different concepts, two different worlds.

The history and foresight in his mind were completely useless in the world of "Fight Back to School."

The future became uncertain again. Jack Linton shook his stiff neck, picked up the newspaper at hand, and pretended to read while actually taking deep breaths to calm himself.

He didn’t calm down—instead, he was even more shocked.

Today’s headline: "God of Gamblers" John Grant defeats Japanese masters, winning a best-of-three gambling match with a clean 2-0 victory.

Jack Linton read it three times, making sure he wasn’t seeing things, and sat on the sofa doubting his life.

The world he had transmigrated into was way too complicated…

The next day, Jack Linton realized he was truly young, and the complexity of this world was even greater than he had imagined.

Yesterday was the 12th, but today suddenly became the 8th. He thought maybe David Carter’s newspaper delivery was wrong, but David Carter said yesterday was the 7th and today was the 8th—no problem.

Jack Linton thought David Carter had slept himself silly, and David Carter thought the same about him. The former took out yesterday’s newspaper—the headline was still about John Grant, but the date was indeed as David Carter said.

David Carter wasn’t confused, and neither was Jack Linton. The problem was with this world.

In the days that followed, Jack Linton read the newspaper every day. The date didn’t change every day, but every few days it would shift.

That was even worse—there was no pattern at all.

Jack Linton finally realized that he was the only one who noticed the irregular changes in the date; no one else thought anything was strange.

When everyone else is sick and only you are healthy, you don’t need to think about it—you’re the one who’s sick.

Fortunately, even though the dates jumped around, people’s memories didn’t reset or jump with them. Otherwise, just the constant resets would be enough to torment Jack Linton to death.